Shurmbardigan
by alltheotherpennamesweretaken
Summary: The romance between two teachers at St. Vincent Pallotti High School. Drabbles may continue.


Shurmbardigan One-shot

Chris groaned, slamming the red pen down in disgust. Wrenching his glasses from his burning eyes, he threw the cursed things to the side and consoled his poor aching outlets.

Five hours of sleep, a stack of midterms a foot high - per class - and already three faculty meetings this morning. The scantron machine was on the fritz, leaving him to hand grade the rest of his tests, and the worst part of it was that grades were due tomorrow at eight. He was at his wits end; he couldn't get it all done.

He needed a break; he needed sleep. He was getting to be so out of it that he barely noticed his head scheduling a pleasant lunch date with his desk. _Just a few moments, _he told himself. _No one will… notice…_

But his luck seemed to continue its steady course for the worse. Rather than being graced with a brief respite, he was jolted awake by footsteps. Those footsteps he quickly found to be the property of Stephen Shurman, a fellow colleague of his.

The older man leaned casually upon the adjoining lab table and gave a warm smile in Chris' direction. The smile, while attempting to appear genuine, was an obvious facade. The crazy thing about Shurman was his ability to use his smiles as more of a greeting than a show of happiness - almost like a wave, or a "hello" - and Chris had been quick to note this upon first meeting his coworker.

"Hey man, you don't look too good." The slight Carolina drawl eased through the words as Shurman's face contorted into a look of concern and compassion. He used it to study his intended target who was precariously listing over his laptop.

Thankfully for Shurman, Chris did recover. The young man carefully leaned back - appearing as if it took a serious amount of concentration - in his chair and glanced up at his coworker with a slight smile. God he was such a masochist.

"Yeah, I bet I don't. I never should have taken on chemistry this year. Not with all this scantron shit going on." He waved a hand over to the stacks of tests looming dangerously close to Shurman's elbow. They seemed as if they were about to attack him at any moment.

The older man winced appreciatively before smiling again.

"Please, don't tell me you're done already. It's cruel to lie, Steve."

The older man shook his head. "Nah, I just finished sociology; I figured I'd come down here for a break. I needed it." He chewed on his PayDay, his fingers absently tapping the surface of the granite lab table.

The noise that came out of Chris' mouth in response could only be compared to a cruel cross of a groan and a wet choking laugh. "Yeah… I should probably do that too." The sigh that followed sounded more of a wet sob than anything else.

His bemoaning earned an eyebrow quirk from Shurman, but he swallowed the bite before he asked. "You sure you're feeling alright?"

Chris gave a mad sort of laugh before he answered, surveying his mound of ominous work ahead of him. "I'm gonna go crazy, Steve, I swear I am. That damn dog is going to be the fucking death of me. Between the dog and this stupid job, I swear it'll be the death of me."

An inquisitive look pressed the young teacher on.

"The dog needs internal surgery - on his heart, and the scantron's dead. My cable's dying… Just life man, just life."

Shurman nodded, looking away from the younger man now to his classroom instead. When he turned back, there was a mischievous glint in his eye that tainted another veiled smile. "I guess you're feeling kinda claustrophobic right now, with "life" pressing in on you? I've got an idea as to how to get your mind off of it - if just for the moment."

Chris felt something brush over his hands, and he glanced down to see the older man's hand brush against his. It covered his, eclipsing it in paler flesh that shone from a golden band.

"Wha-what are you talking about, Steve?" His voice was smaller, sharper, and quivered in a way that made the young man unsure of his thoughts and his companion's intentions.

But Shurman seemed intent on getting a point across that both men already knew. "It's not really something that can be told… I could show you, but you have to want it. You've got to want it all the way."

There was a lump in the back of Chris' throat, and swallowing away at it seemed to have little effect. Was Shurman suggesting what he thought he was suggesting? Chris had never really experimented in college with that kind of thing - he usually stayed away from the "hot-zones" on campus. But there was a small part of him inside that did want to know what _it_ felt like. There was a small part of him that thought he just might be more than interested in experimenting.

"And if we get caught? Steve, we could lose our jobs."

Shurman's face stayed grave. "Do you want to try it or not?" His hands continued to inch closer to Chris, towards the tie, the shirt, his chest. Shurman's never been the one to have the personal space issue - he's always been respective of that, but this is different. Shurman's not acting like anything Chris has ever seen.

"You still in there, Chris? You wanna try this or not?"

Chris snapped out of his thought process, stared back at the older man with a dazed look on his face. Steve Shurman, a man whom he had respected as being the guy to easily desensitize a situation with a few words had just hit a ten of the scale of tension, and Chris wasn't sure if he would say, "Yes."

Did he really just say that out loud? He did, and Shurman took it as a "Let's do this." Wait, he said that out loud too, didn't he? Yes, he did. Shit.

But the hand on his crotch drew Chris' attention from the past. Shurman was now standing dangerously close to him with a very calm assured look writ in his face. A thumb found his cock and it began slow, circular strokes, followed by a smooth, patient rub through the fabric.

Chris' eyes rolled back into his head as his back met the chalkboard behind him. The feeling was overwhelming - it made him shake and shiver with anticipation; Shurman was going far too slow on purpose. This was a tease… Damn.

"… So, you like that…" It was not a question, or a dirty remark, but rather a statement and a spoken mental note. Chris opened his eyes to see his coworker carefully watching him and his reaction.

And the hand went bolder, further. A second tugged at the leather and fabric binding Chris' form from prying eyes and eager hands. The textile constraints easily gave way to Shurman's deft hands and down went the fly. Cool fingers dug deeper into the cloth boundaries and returned successful, finding Chris' shaft. They retrieved, bringing their master their treasure. Cooler air bit into Chris' senses and his eyes snapped open with a gasp.

Shurman paused for a second, watching the young man's reaction before continuing. Those same, experienced hands slid over Chris' shaft and up around the crown. A thumb grazed ever so slightly over the tip and Chris dropped down an inch with a sharp cry.

Shurman was taking this too slow. Chris wanted more. He didn't know why; but he knew he _needed_ more of Shurman. It was instinctual, just like what was going on now.

Up against the desk, he pushed his senior colleague. He eagerly grabbed at the man's open, soft mouth and pushed at the kiss. It was warm and slippery, happy and it tasted _good_. Chris never wanted an ending - fuck breathing. Breathing wasn't as important as this was right now. Nothing was.

His body disagreed, though, and when it finally forced Chris for air, he surfaced to look at his companion. With a growl, he finally broke the verbal silence. "You're going too slow."

Shurman gave a sheepish grin - it was a flimsy defense. "My fault." Yanking at Chris, he came at the young man with a renewed force that Chris hadn't yet seen. He flipped the young man around, over the desk.

A hand tightened around Chris' cock, beginning to rub him off. It started out slow while Shurman banged around for something behind him. The hand began to wrap around the crown, teasing it by just touching the sides and they doubling back around the shaft. Those damn fingers pushed and pulled but would never come near the fucking tip on purpose - they'd just brush across. They did their job, they got Chris more than up, but he kept waiting, hoping they'd finally dance across the crown and pull him home all over the damn desk.

But the hand left him hanging. It tugged at buttons and yanked him free of his pants, leaving him butt-naked to the empty classroom. A light wet substance danced around Chris' spine and into the crack as two hands began to pull his cheeks apart. Something brushed agains his hole. It filled the sides, and just touched the plush pink tissue.

"Onward ho," and off went the object, inward and through.

Chris gasped and shivered. He moaned and cried out, grabbing for the marble granite underneath him as he rocked his hips inward to take more. Sweat appeared on his brow and began to coat his body as Shurman began the same slow rhythm of in out in out in out. Pure pleasure rocked Chris' body, sending him into fits of moans and cries of mixed pain and delight.

Over and over again, he and Shurman rocked into that little island table. Chris let his own hand pull himself home as he and Shurman grunted and groaned. Pleasing hedonism.

Out of sight and mind to both men was a young man in his early twenties pressed up against the lockers right outside of room 106. Kevin Flanagan looked once, twice, and seeing that the cleaning staff had left for the day, he picked his spot between two cafeteria tables and unzipped his pants.

The scene across the hall had been too much for him to pass up. Steve Shurman and Chris Lombardi, two of his closest colleagues and men that he admired were going at it. It was the stuff of dreams for the younger man - who they had always treated as a child.

In fact, it was the stuff of dreams for Flanagan, as he himself began to beat off to the two mens cries in the other room. He was aware of just how dirty and wrong it was, but did he really care?

The answer to the question came at the exact same time as his climax.


End file.
